


Supposed To Be

by marchingjaybird



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingjaybird/pseuds/marchingjaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny stages a failed movie night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supposed To Be

During the course of Danny's life – at least for the past few months – it seemed like everything was supplanted by a 'supposed to be'.

He was supposed to be grocery shopping, or he was supposed to be relaxing with a novel, or he was supposed to be going to a business meeting, or any number of other things that normal, well-adjusted people managed to accomplish in their day-to-day lives. For Danny, though, something always seemed to come up. A friend called needing help. A _costumed_ friend called needing help. A little old lady got pushed down in the middle of the crosswalk and the third-stringers who dealt with crap like that weren't on the scene.

(Which was a good thing, because it had actually turned out to be a trap by an alleged super-genius who swooped down to challenge the savior of the old-lady-that-was-really-a-henchman-in-disguise, and who Danny dispatched with one solid punch to the face. Some idiot trying to make a name for himself might have made a scene and started a half-assed battle that just resulted in a lot of property damage. There was always a silver lining.)

After all of the aborted attempts to accomplish something lately, he'd figured that it was safe enough to plan a movie night. Invite a bunch of people over, make popcorn and pizza, provide beer, and watch brainless action movies as a time-tested method of blowing off steam. What could go wrong with that? Considering the company he kept, everything.

"Is it just me, or am I failing at everything I attempt lately?" he asked. There was a slight philosophical bent to the question that Luke – the only one who'd bothered to show up – cheerfully ignored.

"I don't know," he answered. "The beer's pretty good."

"Thank you. That's exactly the sort of affirmation I was fishing for."

Luke cracked a smile but his eyes didn't leave the screen. Danny tossed back the dregs of his own beer and set it down on the coffee table. At this point, it was more amusing than depressing, and if he wasn't going to get to do quite what he'd planned in the first place, he might as well just jettison the entire operation. At least, that was his reasoning when he stood up and swung around, neatly straddling Luke's hips.

"The hell are you doing, Danny?" One huge arm lifted to gesture behind him. "Bruce Willis is about to blow up an entire building."

"As if you've never seen him do that before," Danny answered, quirking an eyebrow. Luke looked straight back at him, no hint of humor showing in his face.

"I haven't. Not in high def."

"There's this awesome thing called a pause button…" Danny lifted the remote from its place on the arm of the chair and aimed it over his shoulder. Abruptly the surround sound screaming ceased. Smirking, Luke rested his hands on Danny's hips.

"So that's the way we're gonna play?" His fingers, disturbingly expert at the operation, found the fly of Danny's pants and unfastened it. "Why didn't you just say you were looking for a booty call?"

"I like to think I'm a little more refined that that." Danny leaned back slightly, hitching his shirt up over his head and tossing it onto the floor. Luke's mouth immediately found his collarbone, teeth and tongue dragging a teasing path across sensitive skin. He moaned softly and threaded his fingers together behind Luke's head, following as his mouth trailed down, lips closing around one of Danny's nipples. Teeth and tongue conspired again and Danny yelped, arching his back.

Taking the cue – and the opportunity – Luke slipped his fingers past the waistband of Danny's pants, simultaneously shoving them out of the way and cupping slim hips. He shifted against the sofa, lifting Danny effortlessly with one hand while the other shucked him of his pants. Naked now, Danny settled back into the cup of Luke's lap, rubbing languidly against the rough denim that covered Luke's legs.

"Don't take your jeans off," he murmured, shifting forward to nip at Luke's ear. That won him a soft laugh as Luke's strong fingers slipped back around to probe his entrance. He gave a shuddering cry and they retreated briefly while Luke flipped open the bottle of lube that Danny kept stashed down the side of the couch cushion.

"You even know how weird you are sometimes?" Luke asked. Thick and slippery, his middle finger pressed deep into Danny, awakening an exquisite ache deep inside. Danny moaned, bit at Luke's neck, and ignored the question.

It was a familiar dance for the two of them, one finger soon joined by another, both of them stroking in and out, twisting and scissoring until Danny was trembling and gasping against Luke's chest, fingers curved into eager claws that raked across broad shoulders. Luke talked the entire time, soothing and deep, lips traveling up and down Danny's neck, across his face, against his mouth, and Danny didn't understand a word of it. It was a comforting refrain, though, and when Luke's fingers slipped out and vanished, he didn't loose the scream of frustration that rose up in his throat.

Emptiness, for a while.

And then he was full again, sudden and painful, and this time he did scream, fingers spasming as he clutched at Luke's shoulders. Luke kept talking, shushing him, stroking him, holding him until the initial pain subsided. There was no avoiding that, not as big as Luke was, and Danny had come to love at least the aftermath of it; Luke's hips moved gently, shallow little circles that built the pressure up to a steady wall, leaving Danny gasping and coated in sweat and wondering deliriously whether he would ever be able to walk properly again.

He nodded once, sharply, and Luke looped an arm around his waist, holding him steady as his hips began to piston upwards, breaking down everything that he'd just built up and loosing sensation in a tingling wave that raced up through Danny's body. It was like pins and needles beneath the skin, pleasure and pressure made ten times better when he looked down at Luke's face and saw that his eyes were glassy with ecstasy, his lower lip captured neatly between his teeth.

It was Danny's turn to talk, whispering and cajoling, whimpering for more, harder, faster, until he lost track of what he was saying and simply punctuated each thrust with a cry of absolute pleasure. His nails dug into Luke's skin, Luke's fingers left bruises on his hips, and dimly he was aware that one of them had managed to slam a hand down on the remote and cut the movie back on. As Luke's thrusts grew shorter and ragged and lost rhythm, Danny heard Bruce Willis yelling, people screaming, everything exploding, and while chunks of whatever it had been rained down on cowering people, Danny added his own scream to the chorus, doubling over and resting his forehead against Luke's shoulder as pleasure exploded through his body. Luke made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and thrust once more, hard, and then they both fell still, panting and covered in sweat.

Danny was the first to move, lifting bleary eyes to Luke's face, then twisting around to look at the television. Faces flashed across the screen in a rapid series of edits and, confused, he turned back to rest his face against Luke's chest. "You're all sticky," he observed. "Now we have to shower."

"Should have just let me watch the movie," Luke answered placidly, resting his broad hand in the small of Danny's back . "Would have been much cleaner in the long run."

"But less fun," Danny said. He smiled and closed his eyes as Luke stood, lifting him. It was an indignity that he had long since come to terms with, and it occurred to him, as Luke carried him into the bathroom, that this was one 'supposed to be' that he truly didn't mind.


End file.
